


The thrill of the forbidden

by CandyCanine



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyCanine/pseuds/CandyCanine
Summary: It begins with Vulpes seeking information, and Cass looking for a fuck. Turns out they just can’t keep their hands – or other body parts – from each other.
Relationships: Rose of Sharon Cassidy/Vulpes Inculta
Kudos: 5





	The thrill of the forbidden

The place is a rat’s nest, and observing the ongoing in this place is one of Vulpes’ least favourite pastimes. Today is different, though. Today, something actually interesting has happened. Someone has been cracking the jackpot too many times. And anything out of the usual deserves his attention.

He can hardly believe his eyes. It is her, the small, pitiful girl he had met in Nipton. No longer pitiful looking, though. She is wearing reinforced leather and collects half an armoury of weapons on her way out. And she has a friend, as it seems, a red-haired woman whose appearance is as shabby and dirty as her way of talking.

He listens, inconspicuously.

“Damn it, girl, why’d you go and have to do that for?!”

“Cass, I couldn’t…”

“I had plans for the night, you know. Plans!”

“What kind of plans?”

He sidles closer. The redhead pushes her ratty hat back and sighs. She is inebriated. They both are.

“Plans, girl. You know. Private plans.”

“Well go ahead then. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Ph.” Redhead pushes her hat down again. “You are such a bore.”

The courier doesn’t reply, and the redhead she had called Cass stares after her and mutters something utterly foul. Then she turns around, still mumbling under her breath. “Banned from the Gomorrah. What’s a girl gotta do to get some dick around here?”

She heads his way, not really looking where she goes, but Vulpes has no intention of letting that possibility go to waste. Any associate of the courier could provide him with the one vital bit of information to their advantage. They collide at the bottom of the stairs.

“I apologize”, he says.

“Well I’ll be...” She narrows her eyes, then those eyes, emerald green, he notices, widen in what seems to be delight. “Well hello there, sports. Pardon me for not looking where I was going.”

“Entirely my own fault.” He realises she is not as inebriated as he initially thought; the reddening of her cheeks is more a blend of sun-tan and freckles. She also smells much cleaner than she looks. “What about a drink as recompense?”

She smiles, adding an amazing pair of dimples to accompany the freckles. “Won’t say no to that, handsome.”

They head for the Tops, and while her way of talking is utterly unbefitting for a woman and her boyish attitude makes it worse, her laugh is amazing. He realises he smiles, and can’t remember when that last happened. He keeps telling himself to keep a grip on himself.

They have a few drinks. He loses a small fortune at the roulette tables. She wins it back at Black Jack. 

“Seems I owe it to you won’t have to sleep on a bench tonight”, he says slowly. 

Cass lowers her eyelids. “Hope you won’t need to spend that night all alone, handsome?”

“I could check if the room I rented has a double bed, shall I?”

She laughs again. “As if anyone’d need a bed for that!” She is still chuckling as they make their way upstairs. 

Later on, Vulpes understands what she had meant with those words. 

The Legion has very strict moral codes and no creativity. It’s the exact opposite with her, and by the end of the night, he is so exhausted in such a positive way like he has never felt before.

This woman is going to be his downfall.

* * *

Most people would think Cass no more than a drunken harlot, but she ain’t stupid. When she recognises the man with whom she has spent the night before in the Tops she keeps her mouth shut, watching as he talks to the courier in a voice so low she can’t understand a word from where she stands.   
But she’s one hundred per cent sure it’s him.

Something’s fishy about him, all right, but it had been a god damn while ago when she last had enjoyed a night so much. She smiles wistfully, remembering his clumsiness. 

Hadn’t known how to undress a woman with feeling.

Hadn’t know how to undress himself with style.

Hadn’t had a fucking clue that there’s more to nature’s oldest dance than her lying on her back and he grunting on top of her. No fucking way, she’d thought, but that god damn piece of sex on legs had proven to be a fucking fast learner.

If he was a legionary, being as he was so clumsy and clueless around a woman’s body, she’d asked.  
Is it that bad, he’d given back, but something about his answer hadn’t sat right with Cass.

And now he’s standing there, talking to her boss, handing her something she pockets as fast as she can, and gone he is. Without as much as a glance at Cass. She shoves her hat back and scratches her forehead. 

Did she just spend one of the most enjoyable nights in years with a fucking legionary? A lopsided grin spreads on her face. No fucking way. 

If the courier would ever find out, she was going to be in so much trouble.

* * *

The courier seems to have changed her plans for the day. Initially, she’d told Cass, she had meant to do some odd jobs for the Followers out in Freeside, but now she’s heading south. Out of the city.

When they reach Cottonwood Cove, Cass can’t deny it any longer, he was been a legionary and she had not only fucked him, or he her, but she has also spent hours teaching him how to make a woman come. She briefly wonders if she will see him again, but deems it unlikely when she sees the size of the damned fort. No fucking chance of running into each other by chance.

“The fuck are we doing here anyway?” Cass asks the courier while climbing up the slope towards the centre of the fort.

“Not sure myself,” the courier gives back carefully. “I’ve been invited though, and I thought it unwise to outright reject.”

“Unwise?” Cass spits out. “What about it being unwise to walk right into the middle of a fucking army of legion shitheads?” She’s angry, but not at the courier. At herself, mostly, because she keeps thinking about that guy whom she doesn’t even know the name of. And at the fact she still wants to continue her lessons despite the fact that he’s probably killed more people with his bare hands than she has pubes.

Always been fucking good in getting yerself into trouble, girl, she thinks to herself.

The courier just shrugs and they continue their way, right up until the guard at the entrance of the tent they’re headed for tells Cass to wait outside. Brilliant. And she can’t even light a smoke because those fuckheads at the gate took them away. Probably sitting in a quiet corner now enjoying them themselves, ugly pugs.

She’s not aware that inside the tent, Caesar himself bids the courier welcome. Unaware also of the fact that one of his men is the one having brought her his invitation. Has no clue that he asks his leave to, in his words, keep an eye on her companion. 

So when the tent flap opens and she expects the courier and instead sees a man in legion uniform she’s mildly surprised, but when a second later she recognises him she’s gobsmacked.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, she says.

“I did”, he replies, looking smug.

Cass hooks her thumbs into her belt. “What are you, his right hand or what?”

“No. Merely a frumentarius.”

“You don’t say. And what’s that, a frumpytarius?”

“A frumentarius”, he gives back without missing a beat, “…is a spy and infiltrator.”

“Ah. Figures.”

The silence grows heavy, and Cass looks away. “Pretty big army.”

“Yes, it’s impressive, is it not? I would advise your employer to reconsider the side she takes in the coming battle, but I know it to be a waste of breath.”

“Don’t think it makes a fucking bit of a difference, anyway.”

“What? Whose side you are on?”

“Nah.” Still craving a smoke Cass doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands, so she keeps twirling the end of her braid between her fingers. She shrugs. “Who wins. In the end, this fucking desert is still the same dump of irradiated shit it always was.”

“Someone should teach you how to mend the ways of that poisoned dagger in your mouth you call your tongue.”

Cass snorts. “Better a poisoned dagger for a tongue than running around in a frumpy skirt.”

“I am in a mind to be the one teaching you, woman.”

She looks up at him, her eyelids low. “What?" she breathes. “Wanna wash out my mouth with soap?”

“Maybe not soap”, he replies very slowly.  
“What? Here?”

“Stupid woman.” Yet a tiny smile flits over his face. “Follow me.” He walks off and mutters softly, yet audibly for her: “If you dare.”

“Dare?” Cass can feel her hackles rise. “Fucking dare me, frumpygarius.”

He keeps on walking, doesn’t look back. “My name is Vulpes, not Garius.” There is an audible trace of humour in his voice.

Behind the tent are a few large boulders shielding them from sight. Cass doesn’t lose either time or nerves, she slips her hand under the skirt of his. But no matter how much of a feel she cops, there’s naught but him under that kilt. And a very eager him, it seems. 

He fumbles at her belt and shoves his hand inside. 

“You’re not wasting any time, huh?”

“Says you, woman, who is holding me by my manhood?”

“I can let go.”

“Don’t you dare.” He leans closer. “And I advise you”, he purrs as his fingers begin to move, “to remain silent. All that separates us from Caesar and his staff is a wall of cloth.”

“You’re a fucking fast learner”, Cass gasps tonelessly, biting back a moan. The boulders dig into her back, and his fingers dig into her flesh. “Faster.”

He obeys, chuckling under his breath. Moments later Cass has to bite into her forearm to silence herself.

“God fucking damn”, she whispers hoarsely and opens her eyes to find him looking at her under lowered eyelids. “Oopsie. Didn’t mind my language, did I?”

He shakes his head.

“Gotta wash my mouth now, don’t I?”

This time, he nods.

With a playful sigh, she kneels down and her head vanishes under his kilt. She can feel his surprise, and hears his hardly suppressed gasp. Been expecting a hand job, huh?, she thinks to herself. Try keeping quiet now, frumpy one.

Her hat topples to the ground, his fingers dig into her hair. And the more her tongue dances, the harder his grip becomes. Then she pulls back, baring his trembling cock to the cool air again, and his breath escapes him in a strangled wheeze. She licks his balls, and she can hear him emit a growl that he hastily swallows. Then she remembers where they are, and takes pity on him. Sucks him in deeply, fondling his balls, and it doesn’t take him much longer. Cass swallows, and finally can’t resist biting him, just a little, for pulling at her hair like that. 

Then she gets up again, a small, slightly mischievous smile on her face. “Mouth cleaner now?”

“I sincerely hope so”, is the reply. Droplets of sweat have formed on his brow and temples, and he takes one of her shirt tails and wipes them away.

* * *

Cass rounds the corner of the tent just as the courier leaves it. She gives her a distrustful stare.

“Where have you been?”

“Sightseeing.”

“In the Legion Fort?”

“Some sights to see here, fucking sure.”

The courier narrows her eyes but says no more. First after they have left Cottonwood Cove far behind she confronts Cass again.

“Sightseeing.”

“Eehyup.”

“You didn’t run into Vulpes Inculta by any chance? He left the tent directly after I entered.”

“Who?”

“Forget it.” A long pause. “And you know what? Caesar seems to have a problem with molerats behind his tent.

“Molerats?”

“Yes you know.” The courier doesn’t look at her. “Strange grunting and huffing sounds. Scrabbling sounds. That.”

“You don’t say.”

The courier looks at Cass again, but she’s got years of experience under her belt in keeping a poker face. 

Finally, the courier emits an angry sigh. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Can’t you just buy a hooker?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s not fun, it’s staying alive I’m thinking about!”

“What?” Cass spits out. “You? A threat to me because of whom I fuck with?”

“I was talking about him, Cass, not me.”

“Oh.” Too late for that. “Well then.”

* * *

He follows the courier, but he stalks her companion. Yet he is the best of the frumentarii, and no one ever suspects. And it seems she has some kind of sixth sense, because whenever the slightest chance presents itself, she takes it.

No one in Freeside looks at the couple who vanishes between the houses in search of a private spot in some dark and hidden alley. He fucks her with her back against a wall covered in crumbling plaster and dotted with gunshots. She clamps her legs around his hips to push him deeper in.

* * *

Even though almost everyone in Freeside knows Cass, no one looks twice at her when she rents a room in the Wrangler and heads up there with a guy in tow. 

After locking the door they both let go, with no need to keep silent, no need to remain on guard, they tear each other’s clothes away, all groping hands and huffing breaths. She surprises him yet again by throwing him onto the bed. There he lays on his back, watches her as she straddles him, and gives in to the sensation of not being the one on top.

He reaches out to fondle her breasts, and wonders why on earth he hasn’t thought of this by himself. Why not let the woman do the hard work for a change?

Cass doesn’t mind the work, though. She rides him like the cowgirl she would be if there still were cows and horses around. She doesn’t even take her hat off.

* * *

The battle draws closer, and Vulpes has no more excuses to keep following the courier. Dressed as a NCR soldier he manages to catch Cass’ attention as they leave Camp McCarran the day before the attack is planned, and behind some derelict air planes he throws her over a rusting barrel and fucks her so hard she will be sore for days. 

When Cass straightens up again after pulling up her jeans she looks at him worriedly. 

“There was an army of Houses robots under the fort”, she finally says. “But she didn’t destroy it, she made it hers. You can’t win this battle.”

It is the missing link, and it all falls into place now. He knows it and believes her words, but there is nothing to be done about it. 

“I will do what I must”, he says.

She looks at him, her eyes almost sorrowful. His only consolation is that the marks he left on her will outlive his own existence.


End file.
